Like Clockwork
by Icehang
Summary: A unhappy desk jockey summoner has his life jump started by an... interesting girl.


Being a summoner isn't as glamorous as they say you know? You spend all day mostly doing paperwork actually. The bureaucracy of the league of legends tends to run on a little longer than what you see on the fields of justice. In Between the exciting deathmatches that draw crowds from miles around everyday, there is still a lot of buffer in the inner workings of the institute. Summoners have lifeline connections giving us first hand experiences and an almost _intimate _bond between magical cosmic beings, unspeakable void beasts and bloodthirsty mercenaries alike, seamless control over fantastical powers of arcane that can rival the very champions we bond with, and even a discount at the local spirits dispensary, but we still have to dot our "i's and cross our "t"s.

Thats what im doing right now as a matter of fact; mind numbing, time consuming, glorious paperwork. The amount of time I spend actually on the field is less than seven or ten days out of a year, and almost always because of some hiccup or oversight requiring me to step in.

I know what your thinking, "how can you be a summoner without hardly ever summoning?" before you ask another question let me reiterate, the bureaucracy in the league tends to run a little longer than what you see. Every gold coin spent or earned, every complaint over a champions eligibility to compete, every need of the champions that **live** in the institutes walls,, every approved legislation being passed for a glorified pit fight being implemented and then the information distributed to whomever only for it to be thrown out next week… Most of it feels like it runs thru me.

I can't even remember the last time I was on the feild and not at a desk. Not that I'm complaining, after all this is my dream job, I wanted this since I was a boy. Correction, I wanted to be a summoner, not a file jockey.

Oddly enough I only got this job because I am such a good little folder monkey... I'm not even that good of a mage and yet my superiors, master tier wizards, look at me in awe at the sheer volume of papers I push out day to day. I've always had a certain rhythm if I had to describe it, it made it easy for me to digest the papers of the day at what one may call inhuman pace. So they kept stacking more and more on me, and I saw the field less and less.

The joke around the office for a while was that I was really a robot. The way i talk, Being cold and calculating, no plans after work, just wait for more work… Somebody made the wisecrack one day and it just stuck. It wasn't until another day someone just called me robot again but got cut off, now since then I got the nickname Rob. Not my real name but it doesn't matter. Everyone just calls me Rob now.

I hardly keep up with the actual games anymore, it's almost sad in its own way. I had dreams of grandeur, rubbing elbows with the bigwigs as a feared and respected master tactician arcanist. If i think about it too much it kinda hurts actually. Not that it matters, i still have my dream job, and that's better than what most can say.

I thought in my youthful hubris I would even get to be friends with some of the champions…. Larger than life and about twice as fast. The perfect idols to worship, coming from all walks running just cause they could. Of course I was let down again, They actually don't let you talk to them, something something professional tradition. Not that they would want to talk to you with how busy they can be with their own life ongoings. I don't even have that many summoner friends either.

Just another pipedream I suppose…

***knock knock* **

Somebody is at the door, nobody is ever at the door unless it is some kind of obnoxious stack of papers... I check the time, it is past office hours, i'm not even supposed to be here. I do however spend some time on occasion finishing up excess workload. There is even a prettier female summoner I make more time to help with, she would drop off whatever and I'd look happy doing it for even a chance at companionship. ***knock knock knock* **the person at the door is knocking again. " One minute please." I belay the knocking whilst i make myself presentable.

Perhaps its sarah, bringing me her quarterlies again so she can skip out tomorrow for a date with her boyfriend, wow a whole one month anniversary… she put it up all over league-space how happy she is with her what is it now, twelfth boyfriend this year? She still wont give me the time of day in between romances... But ill still happily take her work just so she'll smile at me, pathatic... I mutter to myself how sad I am as i get up out of my chair. ***knock knock* **

"Sorry one moment-" I deftly stride between papers to reach the door. " -How can i help you?" I say as I open the door. What greets me however makes me jump from the entrance and fall into a pillar of stacked documents, causing a domino of ink and papers in my workspace.

"Hello. Are you alright?"


End file.
